


In the Eye of the Hurricane

by Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers



Series: Chronicles of a Heartbroken Few [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon Compliant, I personally don't even know if there's going to be a happy ending, I'm regretting giving Sal such a long name, Minor Character Death, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, fuck Gelyn, i hate that guy, which everyone does once they meet him honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers/pseuds/Ember_Eyes_are_for_Tigers
Summary: If you had asked Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion of Musicals if he had any regrets in his life, he would lie, so easily it would sound like truth and honey, and tell you that a Bard does not regret any decision. As every decision, especially if stupid or reckless, makes a story more interesting to be told.But, of course, he would be lying.
Relationships: Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion of Musicals/Gelyn of Aderyn
Series: Chronicles of a Heartbroken Few [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607527
Kudos: 5





	In the Eye of the Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Let's call this a Character Study of Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion of Musicals, I do regret having given him such a long name, with the lyrics of Hurricane from Hamilton  
> This is- my baby  
> Since lately I've been going through,,, not the smoothest of patches, I've ended up writing a lot, especially this bad boy and planning the different arcs and sessions for my D&D party and it's been a godsend being able to simply focus on this  
> I guess you could also call this some sort of vent  
> Anyway, if you're reading this, I hope you're going to enjoy this

_ In the eye of the hurricane _

_ There is quiet _

_ For just a moment _

_ A yellow sky  _

It had been a rather rough trip, being attacked by electric bears a da from entering Newsprins’ gates was not how Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion wanted to end his vacation away from the rowdy kids and Delearys. He had even went as far as going with an already formed party directed to Newsprings, and, unfortunately for him, they were all the sort of people to sit next to you at night and talk your head off. Which was incredibly rude, especially when he was trying to fall asleep.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t robbed, killed by electric bears or kidnapped by an organisation known for not being exactly pure of heart.

As he reached the sight of the Guild a weight seemed to lift off from his chest, his footsteps lighter and the prospect of maybe being able to steal back his sketchbook from Delearys’ clutches more appealing than ever. 

But, he should’ve known something was going to happen. And, he should’ve known  _ he _ would return, angrier, more powerful and searching for vengeance.

It was an instant.

Sal’s gaze fell on the elf that was being brought away by two police officers. It resembled so much a memory that haunted his nights, and it was so easy to recognise the one who has his hands in handcuffs.

He had spent years learning the other, loving him and then fearing him. And, there he was again, standing in the courtyard of the Guild.

Their gazed met and the world stopped moving, seconds becoming each breath Sal and every step Gelyn took. He could feel his heart pounding, blood rushing to his legs, ready to react and  _ run _ .

The hourglass had been counting down the moments for them to meet again. And, now the time had ended.

He couldn’t run away anymore.

As Gelyn opened his mouth, sneering and with dark eyes full of memories, Sal felt as he was falling.

Falling down, falling deeper and crashing against memories of the past.

_ When I was seventeen a hurricane  _

_ Destroyed my town _

_ I didn’t drown _

_ I couldn’t seem to die _

Sabrina Salacia Devon, or how they rather preferred being referred as, Sal, stood still. Every muscle of their body frozen into position, unwilling to move as their eyes followed the small figure of Tamila.

They knew what they had just done. 

They understood how the world,  _ fate _ , had given both of them a chance. Two different roads.

The Devon siblings had always been an ambitious duo, everyone knew that. So, Sal, couldn’t fathom why a heavy feeling had quickly settled in his heart by every step the two of them took farther away from each other.

They understood better than anyone else how it felt to run and follow a dream and a goal, that was the whole reason Sal  _ enrolled _ at Bard school. They wanted to be remembered, to create something, a legacy even, that was going to not only outlive them, but, inspire others.

Tamila wanted the same.

And, she joined a gang.

She was probably already loved by everyone, she always had a way with people be it how she looked angelic and innocent at all times, so, she wouldn’t have any problem rising the hierarchy.  _ Hell, she probably already had a plan to become second in command. _

However, Sal knew that wouldn’t stop her. Even after becoming the Head of the criminal group, she would then proceed to become the best criminal in the entire planar system. She wouldn’t stop until she would have created a name for herself, forged her own legacy as a powerful figure. 

All of which far away from Sal.

Who had been by her side since she was born and that was now  _ gone _ .

And, that- that felt like being stabbed in the heart and left to slowly die, alone. 

They wanted to hide under the covers of the bed in the dormitory (because they couldn’t bear the sight of the ratty, abandoned room) and perish.

However, they didn’t.

Sal didn’t let themselves cry, they took what was left of themselves and started working.

Homework had never been such a great escape for them, and when they would only spend a couple hours practising their instruments, now, so many sleepless nights were passed in the adjacent rooms. Tirelessly working.

It felt like the only way to not give into the guilt, the grief and the memory of their sister, young ambitious Tamila, walking away from Sal.

It felt like the only way not to drown.

_ I wrote my way out _

_ Wrote everything down far as I could see _

_ I wrote my way out  _

_ I looked up and the town had its eyes on me _

The last two weeks of a school year at Bard school were often met with three feelings:

Relief, anxiety and the ferocious need to party your cares away.

And, when it was the last year of five which you spent learning as much as you could, trying not to die under the pressure of all the exams and performances, the need to party intensified.

That’s how Sal found their way in a dimly lit cavern, music being blasted and people having fun. (If you called that  _ fun _ , because Sal sure didn’t.)

Their roommate, which they still can’t quite remember the name of, and a couple of their classmates they had brought along were already nowhere to be found, probably dancing with some stranger, leaving Sal alone. And, as they sat at the bar, sipping some colourful cocktail, that hadn’t seemed to be  _ that _ strong, they didn’t feel at a party.

Of course, that was before they caught the eye of a charming elf. 

He had platinum blonde hair, clear eyes and a demeanour that’s was screaming how out of place he was in this current situation; with those rich clothes and that hair that made him look like a prim and proper noble of some kind. Even his hair, although cut short in sign of dishonour, was styled in such a perfect manner that made Sal want to ruffle it up.

(Which he would. So many times.)

That was how a lonesome evening into an adventurous night, which resulted into hickeys (mostly on the elf’s neck, Sal would admit through a smirk) and a tattoo of a bagpipe on their butt. But, neither of them cared.

For the first time, when this high level elf looked at them, they felt like they actually mattered. As if they were truly special, had  _ potential _ .

And, that was more inebriating than anything else.

It would then, years later, be classified as one of Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion’s worst mistakes, but, if you went back in time and told him, he wouldn’t care.

As the lips of the elf were sweet under theirs, the fingers through their hair feeling as if it belonged, and the need to burn bright for the night, they let themselves believe in this happy ending.

_ They passed a plate around  _

_ Total strangers _

_ Moved to kindness  _

_ From my story _

It was fairly simple really.

Sal would remain outside in the streets and charm whoever he could, to protect the civilians. Which was awfully nice of him.

It was also a way to avoid the other option, of course. Which consisted of going inside the buildings and stealing, pillaging, murdering or whatever they were paid to do; which Sal  _ desperately _ didn’t want to do.

Call him a pussy or whatever, but, he couldn’t stomach to kill people. He would rather let Gelyn do his own job, without knowing the details, and not have to deal with blood on his own of hands or his mind.

So, he played, beautifully, might he add.

However, even if the song he played and the story it wove, even if it made everyone who heard it stop and get lost in a wonderful fantasy, Sal couldn’t stop a dull sensation that only grounded him. A heavy feeling that had found its place in Sal’s very being and anchored him to the tediousness of existence.

It was astounding that already four years had passed since he met Galyn and the others. Nearly five.

Four years of people kindly lending him their ears, and Sal fooling them.

Four years of getting praises that felt like Minor Illusions (like Galyn had kindly supplied), and then, running away, to another city and another job.

Four years of repetition that was slowly digging into Sal’s flash and soul, aching for something to happen,  _ Anything _ . 

From a window in front of Sal one of his friends made sign that everything had gone to plan, the job had been successfully executed and Sal had the wrap up and end the performance, before heading towards the gates, ready to run away. Like planned.

Sal wanted to sigh.

At least, running, meant that the view was always different.

_ I wrote my way out of hell _

_ I wrote my way to revolution  _

Nevithra had told him to continue writing, to not give up and to use what he had to escape as much as he could.

And, Sal tried. He really did.

Every moment where he could hold his bright coloured red sketchbook and freely use a pencil to escape through words, drawings or notes was a blessing through the hell he was living. He had began, though, to be more quiet to not arouse suspicions. 

Gelyn’s eyes that once had felt like the entire world now felt like his gaze burned through his skin.

His sketchbook, with its markings on paper that told the world who he was and the stories he held, felt like a quiet revolution against the hell he was living.

_ And when my prayers to God were met with indifference  _

_ I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance  _

Somehow it had helped.

After he had told Gelyn about how femininity and the term woman itched his skin and were wrong since he was a man that night by the fire, life had turned so much harder. He didn’t know how he had survived those months, if he had to be perfectly honest.

Although, the two sketchbooks Nevithra has gifted him were covered in writing, notes and doodles, so, maybe, it was true that escaping by creating had saved him. Even though if anyone was the one who had saved him from Gelyn and his cold fury; that was Nevithra and her husband.

He got up from the bed in the guest room they had propped up for him for as long as he’s remain with them, an invite he didn’t want to overstay their welcome.

His years as a mercenary of sorts had made him travel throughout the land, that was true, but, it was never for long. Between mystical cities that were above the clouds and cities that were masterfully carved into the stone of the mountain, to cities that managed to blend so beautifully to the surrounding snow and ice even with palaces and frozen fountains- Sal could say he had experienced and seen the wonders of hand craftsmanship.

The multitude of buildings, styles and cultures were breathtaking and inspiring.

However, it had made Sal ache for something familiar, grounding and most importantly  _ his _ . Something he had sorely missed since Tamila’s… choice of path.

Or, should it be called a different career path?

Sal looked himself in the mirror of the tiny cramped room a faint smile on his scrapped lips and a hand passing through the dark strands of his hair that was already starting to grow.

Yeah, it was going to be alright. And, soon, as he was going to take his life in his hands and burn as bright as a star.

_ In the eye of the hurricane _

_ There is quiet _

_ For just a moment _

A couple of years the now Sal Devon Archibald Van Dolion of Musicals stood in front of the tiny apartment complex, an old building that reeked of arcane magic that he had learnt to call home. 

He had to suppress a grin as he began entering, the thought of Jason seeing him, seeing him  _ now  _ in this new body it was exhilarating. Finally, he was free, in some weird societal way, or maybe in a spiritual way. 

Smiling, he started skipping up the stairs, heart starting to beat faster by every step he took and the different aromas of  _ home  _ hit him. 

The strawberry based potions, the pungent smell of explosions and coffee, and then, as he reached the third floor, freshly baked bread. Freshly baked bread was  _ divine  _ and it reminded him of Jason, his cute neighbour and cute baker. 

However, as he was thinking of Jason he should have expected to see him.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have expected to see him grossly making out on the door of Sal’s apartment.

Everything slowed down and every moment seemed to act as a dagger that cut deeper, and Sal’s smile and heart slipped off and shattered against the cold, hard floor.

The woman he was with (she too had dark hair) noticed him first (she had clear blue eyes) and, although Sal tried to ignore the next couple of seconds that followed, he couldn’t stop himself from remembering everything that was uttered.

Jason was surprised, and rightfully so. In his eyes there might have been a hint of guilt, but, Sal couldn’t let himself be pitied. He couldn’t let himself believe that he actually cared.

_ He couldn’t- _

Sal slammed the door behind him and the whole apartment shook. Or, maybe, it was just him crumbling to the ground, hopeless.

That girl seemed nice. Nicer than him, for sure. He understood why Jason would like her. It was  _ fine _ .

Despite his words, all that was left was a cold, unforgiving, raging pit of fire.

So cold he couldn’t cry. But, hot enough to want to burn the world to the ground.

_ I was twelve when my mother died _

_ She was holding me _

_ We were sick and she was holding me _

_ I couldn’t seem to die _

Aching loneliness.

The clammy warmth of their mom’s hands slowly shifting into a freezing clutch.

Tamila was still crying by Sal’s side and all they could do was embrace her closer to them, they were warmer. Warmer than their mom- well, her corpse.

A pang hit Sal, a punch to the gut that made their eyes water and wish desperately for their mom to return.

But, there was only Sal and Tamila, who was now clinging to them as if her life depended on it. Which, they guessed was pretty accurate.

So, Sal breathed. Slowly. And kept holding Tamila as they slowly closed their eyes, their mom disappearing from view.

_ Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it _

_ (I’ll write my way out) _

It felt like a constant cycle.

Any time anything was even remotely positive in his life it felt like Fate got offended, and everything seemed to crash against him as full force back again.

Nothing changed much, except, progressively, he found himself more and more alone. And, while he refused to use the term abandoned it  _ did  _ feel like Fate had abandoned the concept of Sal being happy.

That, and the constant nagging feeling that he was never enough for anyone, and no matter how he acted or what he would end up saying, everyone just ended up preferring someone else. And, or him or them, would just end up walking away.

That’s how everyone disappeared from his life. A step after another. Farther and farther away from him.

Somewhere around Gelyn and Jason, or maybe it had been a progressive change and when Jason disappeared it peaked, he gave up.

He stopped acting just to appeal others, they couldn’t be trusted either way, and stopped caring about others altogether, he didn’t have the strength to.

_ Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it _

_ (Write everything down,  _

_ far as I can see) _

A couple of months later, after returning home after all those dreadful moths passed in the wilderness and that…  _ fiasco  _ with Jason, everything seemed to re-adjust itself, accepting the struggles, struggling but managing.

That was until Jason came to the door of his apartment, a letter full of paper in hand.

In the weeks that followed Sal’s return he had mostly ignored the other, trying his best to not let his silver tongue get the better of him and throw insults whenever he saw the blonde guy, and if you has asked him he was doing a pretty good job. Always better than unleashing all the anger and sorrow that had started boiling through his veins.

Which had resulted in him writing, composing and creating. 

However, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had spent his time writing, as all the papers gave him were filled to the brim with words. They were a torrent of thoughts, all about Sal.

Nonsensical, without following a clear path to comprehend and furrling comments about how Sal  _ was _ . But, even the too ridiculously woven to comprehend words were enough.

Once again the world crashed and broke him.

So, Sal did what the letters told (Ordered? Hoped? Pleaded? Who knew) him. He picked up his bagpipe and a backpack and ran away.

He didn’t fight against Jason, he surrendered. And ran.

  
  


_ Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it _

_ (History has its eyes on you) _

The loss of the red sketchbook had been like a fatal blow. 

Digging deep into his flesh and reaching to his heart. It brought back memories he had tried desperately to escape from, faces that still haunted him in his nightmare.

But, he still needed it. It was an object of comfort, something that reminded him of his past, who he was and his  _ identity _ .

So, he followed the mysterious figure who had stolen his face and had vanished into the darkness of the shadows. And, as he jumped from roof to roof, his heart beat against his ribcage, sweat trickling down his back as fear grasped him.

It felt like the floor had given down underneath his feet. Completely destabilising.

His breath quickened, as he let himself fall on the roof in sitting position, eyes trained on the road.

He was alone. Again.

And, this time it felt like there was no anchor he could use to save himself.

_ I'll write my way out _

_ This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only _

_ Way I can protect my legacy _

Delearys had his notebook.

_ Delearys _ , who was part of the Aderyn family, had  _ his  _ notebook. 

It kind of felt like he was seeing blonde short hair, instead of her long red in a braid, and a ruthless assassin, not a proud, strong paladin. It was surprising how by sharing the same blood, two people could seem so different.

Momentarily, his thoughts slipped towards Tamila. Seventeen years had already passed.  _ How much can a person change in seventeen years? _

The city outside the window was eerie, like the mysterious people made of shadow that walked through those streets. The thought of Tamila and then Gelyn and Delearys and how _ they had the same eyes _ , was enough to make him forget about the adventure.

He stayed on his bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, mind reeling for what felt like eternity.

_ Wait for it,  _

There was something in the air. Something as the streets of Heathwood, or the silence of Rosebridge.

_ Wait for it,  _

Something was going to happen. He knew it.

_ Wait for it,  _

_ Wait _

_ Tamila _


End file.
